Afflicted Designs
by KCKidCandy
Summary: She had no real debt. Nothing to make up for and nothing to apologize about. It had all been paid off long ago. So why did they insist that she was still heavy with untouched costs? And why did she play along so eagerly?


It was Friday. The campus of Ouran Academy was nearly deserted aside from a few guards and a handful of teachers. But even they were bustling to get home. The weekend was just about to begin and not a single person, rich or poor, was able to resist the urge to drown themselves in pamper and pleasure. And that was exactly what the young women seated on the lavish and ridiculously expensive couches of music room number three we're doing. There wasn't a single Ouran female not absolutely giddy with readiness to be entangled in an adolescent man's charms. They were all dying to see what the Host Club had planned. Especially with today's setting being that of a tropical paradise. No girl in their right mind would pass up this opportunity. Except for the one who was furiously pounding through hallways just as fast as her tiny legs would carry her. Four days' worth of intense work was clutched to her chest in the form of six suit bags. She was having quite the issue restraining herself from crumbling them to a pulp with her deathly grip as she went rocketing up a flight of stairs. A feminine hand gripped the gorgeously colorful railing for two quick moments, its owner taking short, choppy breaths before continuing on her rugged path. She glanced down as a tiny bead slipped from one of her bags, losing interest in her direction just long enough to ram full force into a solid wood door. Her head made a loud cracking noise and she plummeted to the ground in a mess of meticulously colored fabrics and overly thirty sheets of paper with over the top design printed on them. She was in far too much pain to move at the moment. Thank god a wispy trail of rose petals and glimmering light hit her in the severely damaged face.

"Knocking with our head again, are we?" a pair of lengthy legs topped by sleek glasses stepped into view. The stunned female on the floor blinked her eyes a few times to be greeted by a torso equally gorgeous as the legs and a face that could probably rule the world if its family didn't already. Raven hair had been brushed into a messy yet conservative style and dark eyebrows had been plucked to perfection. He was easily one of the most gorgeous men on the planet. The male tucked a black notebook between his arm and his chest and rested a freshly sharpened pencil on his ear. He leant down slowly, gripping the mutilated hand of the young girl at his feet and pulled her into a standing position. At the apex of her skull, she still only reached to the area just above the man's elbow. She brushed off her armful of packages and bowed a thank you at her obvious acquaintance. The nearly mortifying glare on his glasses disappeared to reveal cool gray eyes that looked down at the messy clump of hairs sprouting from the female's ponytail after her messy tumble. He took his free hand and smoothed them back with the rest, and act that would make nearly any woman swoon with sheer infatuation.

"Thank you, Kyoya-Senpai!" she howled, frantically dashing past her superior before collapsing in front of five men. The blonde look impatient, the twins looked bored, the little boy looked overjoyed, and the servant looked indifferent.

"Mi-Chan! Mi-Chan came to play with us again! Yay! We thought for sure you died!" a soul crushingly adorable boy with honey colored hair grabbed the female's waist and hugged it so tightly she began having trouble holding her lunch down. Mi Kusai, the loyal seamstress of the Ouran High School Host Club, somehow managed to pool her remaining strength into an embrace for her miniature friend. Her head was pounding, her feet were throbbing, and the tent-like towel she had wrapped around her still sopping wet body was not what one would call flattering but she mustered up enough strength to tell her intensely kawaii friend just how much she loved him.

"Honey-Senpai!" she nuzzled a wet cheek up against his before springing to her packages. Mi passed them out as quickly as she could. It was her fault for being late. And it wasn't just by an hour, it was by seven days. The intended date for the new dress to be delivered was actually last Friday, but health issues had gotten the better of her and the Host Club's Tropical Paradise Escape party had been delayed. There was no doubt that Kyoya was jotting down extra costs to pin on Mi's tab in his little black book. But she was far too caught up in the task at hand to pay attention to money troubles. She shoved a single bag at two identical, and stunningly attractive, red haired boys,

"Kaoru-Senpai, Hikaru-Senpai, Tamaki-Tono..."

"Why do you always refer to us as Senpai?" the two twins spoke in unison, leaning down together to invade Mi's personal space.

"We're in the same class as you," the one known as Hikaru swatted his hand through the air as he spoke.

"It's not like you're ever there, though." Kaoru finished the teasing sentence with a sinister giggle, linking arms with his sibling affectionately.

"Oh, gosh, I know... I was out all week again, wasn't I?" she paused for a solemn moment and stared at the ground. Mi perked back up as sharply as her spirits had fallen,

"Everyone get into a stall and start changing! I'll be out in a minute, tops, to help you all get ready."

"I'd advise you against being unpunctual again, your balance in suffering from it greatly." Kyoya marked a few things in his book studiously before slipping into a changing stall. Mi's spirits flopped into the depressed again. Luckily, the suicidal sadness only lasted a split second. She didn't have time to be crestfallen. The female tugged her own extravagant dress from the bottom of a paper bag and pulled it over her body. It was so overly decorated it made her resemble a tropical parrot, swathes of enticingly dyed fabric stretching out into wings when she pulled her arm up. Nothing of her outfit mattered a single bit, however, it was all a matter of the Host Club's costumes. Mi made a quick stop in each of the dressing rooms to tighten robes, alter collars, stitch on buttons, and fix just about any other fault she could find. It was her job to do so. It had always been her job. Ever since the Hitachiin's mother had left for France, Mi's place had been creating beauteous costumes for the club of extraordinary men that attended Ouran Academy. She also did a little extra work on the side relating to giving members and clients of the club whatever they needed or desired. It was a tedious job that required a bit of a hard head, an unbendable spirit, a set of great time management skills, and good health. Mi Kusai lacked only one of these qualities. But such small gap would turn out to be her downfall.

* * *

_**Just a little idea that popped into my head the other day~ Probably quite terrible. Tell me what you think, people!**_

_**~KC**_


End file.
